


in this safe place here

by Della19



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: AU, Alpha!Eggsy, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fix-It, M/M, Mpreg, Omega!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 21:07:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3543791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Della19/pseuds/Della19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I am entirely capable,” Harry proclaims cuttingly to Merlin, puffed up like a prissy cat.  And Merlin throws his arms skyward like he’s just begging for lightning to strike ‘im where he stands and asks, with scathing exasperation, "Of what, waddling up to someone and ruthlessly bumping into them?”</p><p>And Eggsy one hundred percent doesn’t snicker, and he’s got the bloody inner cheek to prove it, ‘cause Eggsy’s a fuckin’ gentleman.  </p><p>Instead Eggsy takes in the sight of ‘is pregnant mate, huge as a fuckin’ planet and still the most bloody gorgeous man he’s ever seen. And then takes in ‘is face, and he wonders how much ice cream he’s gonna need to buy to get them all through the four weeks of bed rest Merlin just ordered.  </p><p>And then Harry’s upper lip looks like it might fuckin’ quiver, and Eggsy contemplates just buyin’ stock in Ben and Jerry’s.  </p><p>Or, the pregnant omega!Harry A/B/O that tumblr wanted, because they are enablers.  Eggsy/Harry, A/B/O AU, Fix-It.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in this safe place here

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Nope, still unfortunately not mine.
> 
> A/N: Also, my world building idea for A/B/O is that is just like modern day, where all the real history stuff happened, and the only thing that is different is the omega/alpha thing. So omegas are basically a metaphor for women (omega rights, omegaism, etc.) because my A/B/O fics are just really poorly disguised feminism ;) Enjoy!
> 
> ...also, people make baby oxford shoes, and they are the cutest thing ever. How did I not know this before?!

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=2d26dxi)

***************************************

 _He kissed my belly, “Just think. All the love that we have for each other, we put it in this safe place here.” He kissed my belly again._ ― Tara Brown, _My Side_

***************************************

See, the thing is, right from the word go, Eggsy’d known Harry was an omega. Known it ‘fore he’d even know he was _Harry_ , really. “Cause shite, Eggsy can’t make no claim to blue blood or nottin’, but his genes are all thoroughbred alpha; Eggsy’d walked outta that coppers station and heard a posh voice, seen a bloke in an expensive suit and smelt, _omega_.

Well, ok, yeah, expensive alpha pheromones first, a sandalwood and vanilla mix that _almost_ smelt natural, but under that the sweet, gentle _sugar_ of an omega not in heat, all cinnamon and wood smoke and _potential_.

To say that Eggsy’s got a type would be fair enough. To say that Harry’s Eggsy’s type, all sleek hair, eyes to drown in and _fine_ candy arse might be...puttin’ it modestly, shall we say.

Wasn’t no hardship to trail after ‘im to the Black Prince given that view, is all he’s sayin’.

And yeah, he’d thought it a bit weird ‘bout the alpha pheromone thing, but shite, Harry’d clearly been an old world gent and it was an old fashioned thing, so Eggsy’d given it little mind. Any alphas who thought omegas were weak just ‘cause their gender were right cunts stuck in the dark ages by Eggsy’s thinkin' anyways, so the fact that ‘is mysterious benefactor was an omega hardly mattered from ‘is point of view. Wasn't nothin’ more appealing to Eggsy then an omega with a brain and fuckin’ _spine,_ and that Harry’d had that in spades an also happened to be a _stone fuckin’ fox_ was just icin’ in Eggsy’s books.

And then Harry’d cleaned the clocks of Dean’s goons without even breakin’ a sweat, sat down, and finished ‘is goddamn Guinness all with this little smirk on ‘is face, smelling of _sugar sweet_ and _mate_.

Eggsy’d been pretty much doomed from that second on.

***************************************

That Eggsy ‘adn’t made a move on Harry when he’d been a trainee had been for plenty of reasons. Eggsy’d ain’t exactly made a practice outta courting omegas, but even he knew that trying to court when you had nothin’ to offer probably wasn’t featured in Miss Manners. ‘Sides, Harry was clearly in ‘is late forties, and the fact he’d reached that age without a mate probably meant he wasn’t lookin’ to Eggsy’s reasonin.’ And shite, Eggsy wasn’t going to be that guy, the knot-head alpha who chased after omegas who weren’t interested. And hell, even if he ‘ad been lookin,’ Eggsy couldn’t imagine what an omega like Harry, who could’ve had _anyone_ would want with an alpha like Eggsy. He didn’t imagine ‘is few advantageous genes made up for the fact that he was all rough and low class, the utter opposite of Harry’s upper crust polished elegance.

So yeah, long story short, Eggsy’d left well enough alone, and ‘ad concentrated on becomin’ a Kingsman. And if, while doin’ that, he’d only hoarded every moment he’d had with Harry, treasured every smile and fondly exasperated look, every word of praise and got good and well addicted to the scent of _Harry_ , all wood smoke under artificial sandalwood as he spiralled only deeper into love with the man, the most _incredible_ omega he’d ever meet, well shite, that was no one but ‘is business, now was it?

Eggsy’d been content with what he’d had, and too fearful of loosin’ it to rock the boat. Havin’ Harry in ‘is life as a friend was better than not havin’ ‘im at all, and Eggy’d been resigned to let sleepin’ dogs lie and all that.

And then Harry’d got shot in the fuckin’ _head_ , and Eggsy’d saved the world, and then, after politely turnin’ a frankly gorgeous beta princess down, he’d somehow found ‘imself standin’ over a dead man’s hospital bed, listenin’ to the steady beat of his heart on the monitor.

Life, occasionally, ain’t all that subtle with perspective is all Eggsy’s sayin’.

When Harry wakes from ‘is medically induced coma he’s missin’ an eye, ‘as gained a frankly badass scar, and is still the most beautiful person Eggsy’s ever seen.

So Eggsy gives it a week, thinks of all ‘is reasonable, good reasons why he’d not made a move on Harry and tries to harness ‘is resolve.

After all, he’s a gentleman now.

And then he thinks _fuck it, life’s too fuckin’ short_ , and kisses Harry like he’ll _die_ without it, like he’s never wanted to kiss any one more, like he _needs_ ‘im the way he needs _air_.

Kisses ‘im like he _loves_ ‘im.

And Harry...Harry kisses ‘im back the _exact same way._

And it’s basically perfection by Eggsy’s standards, and when they draw away for need of oxygen Harry asks, through kiss swollen lips, voice low, “Are you sure?” And then, hesitantly, sadly, as if he expects this to turn Eggsy away, as if he doesn’t know _nothin’_ can, “I am 47. I haven’t had a heat in 6 months.”

And Eggsy doesn’t get it until he does, ‘cause 6 months is three months longer than a normal break between heats, and that means menopause, means no _kids_. And shite, Eggsy can’t say he’s never given the idea ‘sum thought in ‘is 25 years, but Eggsy wants _Harry_ , not the nebulous idea of ‘sum third person who might never exist. Wants Harry for ‘is smile and ‘is laugh and ‘is good _soul_ , not for what ‘is ovaries can do, and so Eggsy doesn’t waste a moment in tellin’ him, close enough that his breath feathers out on Harry’s cheek and _fierce_ enough he’ll know it ain’t a lie, “Long as I can ‘ave you, I don't need nothin’ more.”

And Harry looks at ‘im, so full of _love_ , and then they’re kissin’ again, kissin’ like they ain’t never gonna stop. And then Harry offers ‘is neck to Eggsy and all that entails and Eggsy’s mum didn’t raise no fools so he takes it and bites down, and offers ‘is own in return and Harry accepts and at the bite of teeth at ‘is neck Eggsy thinks, _I’ll love you forever_ , and yeah, that’s pretty much that.

And so Harry gets an eyepatch - and Eggsy develops a new fetish - and becomes Arthur, and Eggsy’s Galahad, and Eggsy gets in the habit of fuckin’ Harry long and slow in the mornin’, all wet and _loose_ from knottin’ ‘im the night before, fast and hard over ‘is desk, and gettin’ ridden by Harry in all manner of chairs, ‘cause, surprising to no one, Harry Hart power bottoms like a goddamn _champ_. And occasionally they take breaks to watch sappy films, and save the world, and generally just be stupidly mated and in love, and it’s more than ok.

It’s bloody _perfect._

***************************************

Look, the point Eggsy’d like to make here is, he’d actually taken an A level in Bio, and at some point in ‘is life he’s sure he’d learned that routine sexual activity with an alpha mate can induce heats in pre-menopasual omegas. But shite, Eggsy’d been lookin’ at the marines not medicine, and then he’d been too busy tryin’ to deal with that fuckin’ wanker Dean to figure he’d need that knowledge around, so he’d let ‘imself forget it, ‘cause when was he ever gonna need that, right?

Hindsight is such a bitch ‘sumtimes.

It comes back pretty fuckin’ quick though, Eggsy thinks, when he returns home from a mission a day late and is greeted at the threshold of their bedroom with the sight of Harry, desperate and _wantin’_ and the overwhelming heat smell of _burnt sugar_ and _mate_.

Eggsy’s as hard as a fuckin’ _rock_.

And then Harry fuckin’ Hart _whines_ ‘is name, a fuckin’ pleading, _desperate_ mess, so soaked Eggsy’s surprised he didn’t smell ‘im from the _hall_ , and that’s it for Eggsy and thinkin’.

Eggsy strips outta ‘is clothes in record time, takes three steps to the bed, and then presses Harry down onto it by the nape of ‘is neck. And then he just fucks _in_ ’til he hits bottom in one smooth thrust, and Harry’s so fuckin’ _wet_ the sound is _obscene_.

And Harry fuckin’ _wails_ , and he’s like a _furnace_ inside, slick and wet and so fuckin’ _hot_. And Eggsy bares ‘is fuckin’ teeth and _growls_ , and he’s fuckin’ into ‘im with _savage_ snaps of ‘is hips, pressing teeth to Harry’s neck, ‘cause this ain’t mating it’s _breeding_ , animalistic and _base_. And Harry’s like a _vice_ around ‘im, so fuckin’ _tight_ , and Eggsy finds ‘imself knotting quicker than he ever has in ‘is life before, plugging Harry up all nice and _full_ as the man ‘imself fuckin’ _screams_ ‘is release, convulsing around ‘is knot, milkin’ even more cum outta ‘im.

Eggsy can’t think of any _finer_ sight than Harry, _speared_ on ‘is knot, convulsing round ‘im all _fertile_ and _wet_.

And then, ‘cause heat is a brutal mistress, they end up doing it again, and again and _again_ , ’til they’re both so _fucked out_ that real life ain’t never seemed farther away.

And then, once they’re finally finished, he comes down and finds Harry at the kitchen table, glass of water and a little pink pill sitting out in front of ‘im, and the real world comes crashing back. ‘Cause shite, course they hadn’t used protection, they hadn’t figured they’d need that, and Harry’s lookin’ at ‘im with this look that might be a question, like he wants Eggsy opinion but can’t bring ‘imself to ask it. And so Eggsy takes a second to take stock of it, of the implications of that little pill, and then he gives Harry what he needs.

“No uterus, no opinion,” Eggsy says, waving at ‘imself and he means it, ‘cause this was one of ‘is mum’s first edicts soon as he popped ‘is first knot. _Get an omega pregnant_ , she’d said, _and they get to decide. And whatever they do, keep it or not, you support ‘em Eggsy or I’ll ‘ave your arse skinned, you hear me?_

Class act, ‘is mum, and Eggsy means that entirely seriously.

So, that in mind Eggsy takes Harry’s face in ‘is hands gently and looks into ‘is one good eye and says, pourin’ all the sincerity and _love_ he’s got into it so Harry’ll know he _means_ it, “Except to say, I’ll love you always, no matter what you chose.” And then, with a kiss to the patch, a gesture Eggsy’s taken to and that he knows Harry secretly loves, _oh so_ very gentle, “Alright?”

“Yes, quite,” Harry says, and he looks a little choked with emotion, so Eggsy just gives ‘im one more kiss on the forehead, and then goes upstairs to change the sheets and lets Harry make ‘is choice with the space he deserves.

And then finally Harry comes back upstairs and ‘is face is blank, and Eggsy thinks, _he took it_ and that’s...fine. And he means it, it really is, ‘cause he meant what he said and ‘cause he loves Harry for _Harry_ and who he _is_ , not for what kids he could give ‘im or nothin’, and as long as he’s got Harry, nothin’ else matters. So Eggsy offers a soft smile, and opens ‘is arms and lifts the blankets for Harry to join ‘im, and he does, takin’ ‘is usual position as the little spoon and Eggsy nuzzles his neck and says only, “I love you,” and Harry says, “And I, you,” and that’s all that’s said about that.

And so they get up the next morning and go to work, and it’s all fine. Eggsy saves the world a couple of times, and adds to ‘is own collection a few truly banal front page headlines, and time passes, and its all good and their own special brand of normal. In fact, the only thing that changes is that Eggsy notices that Harry’s scent has changed about short of four months after ‘is heat, ‘sumthing a bit sweeter and _softer_ , and Eggsy wonders that what menopause smells like, or if Harry’s changed ‘sumthing.

So he asks, as they’re gettin’ ready for work the next mornin’ as he watches Harry apply ‘is aftershave and smells that scent again, “You change your cologne?”

“Yes,” Harry says, and if it weren’t for the fact that he’s distracted, tryin’ to find ‘is other shoe that JB has hidden, Eggsy’d of noticed the strange look that flittered through Harry’s good eye, like _guilt_ at that.

But Eggsy doesn’t see, and so all he says is, “I like it,” takin’ a deep whiff of it, all candy sugar and that smell of wood smoke that’s just _Harry_ that Eggsy loves, and as its makin’ ‘is mouth water, he throws in a _wink_ for good measure. And then Harry jumps ‘im, and Eggsy eats ‘im out ’til Harry’s voice goes _hoarse_ ‘fore fuckin’ ‘im ’til they both can’t hardly walk straight, and yeah, needless to say, they’re a little late ‘fore work that mornin’. No one gives ‘em lip though, for all that Merlin gives ‘em a long sufferin’ and knownin’ look, which Eggsy figures is a fringe benefit of matin’ with boss, and then he and Rox go save the world from some psycho with an arctic lair straight out Superman, and life goes on.

And then Harry get’s ‘imself kidnapped, and life fuckin’ _stops_ for Eggsy.

***************************************

It takes two agonizing days for Merlin and the rest of the tech division to track down whose got Harry and where they’ve got ‘im and every second of ‘em is like _torture_ to Eggsy, thinkin’ of ‘is mate, alone, possibly hurt and _needin_ ’ ‘im.

Needless to say, when Merlin does pin their location, there’s no discussion about who’ll go get ‘im. Eggsy just grabs ‘is umbrella and ‘is guns, and quite cheerfully _obliterates_ anyone who gets in ‘is way. And then he finally sights Harry, lookin’ unharmed but a bit disheveled in ‘sum outdoor courtyard in the middle of the lair - ‘cause fuckin’ villains man, always gotta be fuckin’ cliches - and there are six guys between the two of ‘em, all armed and lookin’ at Eggsy, appraising the situation.

And then the wind changes, and Eggsy catches the scent of Harry, uncovered by the masking cologne he now realizes he was wearing, candy sweet and _ripe_ , in the way that only pregnant omegas are.

The world becomes...very _clear_ to Eggsy in that moment, colours too sharp, scents almost too strong as Eggsy stares at ‘is _pregnant mate_ and thinks, _mine_.

And Eggsy can see, in the periphery of ‘is attention the second the goons catch on, realize what they’re smelling. And Eggsy observes, with the clarity of one in the eye of the storm, them understandin’ that they’re standin’ between a pregnant omega and his alpha mate after laying a hand on the omega.

Sees their _fear_ at what they’ve wrought.

And then the second passes, and they’re not thinkin’ no more ‘cause they _ain’t no more_ and Eggsy only takes the time to wipe their blood outta ‘is _teeth_ ‘fore he’s got Harry in ‘is arms, hands _everywhere_ , makin’ sure Harry is ok.

Eggsy’s never been so fuckin’ _terrified_ in ‘is life.

“This wasn’t how I’d intended to have you find out,” Harry says, slightly muffled into Eggsy’s neck, where Eggsy’s got ‘im tucked away, an instinctive alpha gesture, and then, to ‘is face, once Eggsy finally feels secure enough to let ‘im back, even just that tiny amount, voice heartbreakingly sincere, like Harry’s worried of how he’ll react, “I was going to tell you, I just... couldn’t seem to find the right time.”

“As soon as I stop bein’ fuckin’ terrified,” Eggsy manages, and they both ignore ‘is tremblin’ hands, before he informs Harry, with a smile so wide it’s feels like its gonna _split_ ‘is face, “I’m goin’ to be so fuckin’ _thrilled_ about this that you’ll get sick of me.”

“That would be quite impossible,” Harry says, that worry finally gone, a little bit of gentle _sass_ mixed in the genuine sincerity, and he nuzzles back into Eggsy’s throat and Eggsy keeps ‘im there as he says, tone light but utterly serious, “I hope you know you’re never allowed outta my sight again, yeah?”

“I had rather figured,” Harry says resignedly, but he stays tucked into ‘is neck, and Eggsy holds on to the _two_ most important people in ‘is life, all safe and sound, and just breathes, and is so radiantly _happy_.

***************************************

Merlin - ‘cause the beta is actually a licensed medical professional as well as being a tech wizard and also bizarrely protective of his things - basically straps Harry down to the nearest bed in the hospital wing as soon as they get back. And then he rants and rages about hidin’ this at Harry, and Eggsy doesn’t punch ‘im out ‘cause he knows by now this is how Merlin shows he cares, and also its not like it ain’t kind of true and also _hilarious_.

The phrase “If I had any hair left, you’d make it fall out!” is used, grated almost beyond recognition in Merlin’s brogue, and its _beautiful_.

But then Merlin and Harry hug it out, or the upper class, emotionally constipated British gentleman equivalent of it at least. And then there are tests, and Eggsy finds ‘imself needin’ to rein in the urge to punch Merlin out again. ‘Cause _fuck_ , that’s a fuckin’ _big_ needle and Merlin sticks it _in_ Harry’s _belly_ , and Eggsy holds Harry’s hand and looks only at Harry’s face and reminds ‘imself that he _likes_ Merlin, and that this is actually a necessary medical thing and thus he can’t mess ‘im up for this.

And then Merlin get’s out some fuckin’ wand and ventures down into an area of Harry that makes Eggsy have to remind ‘imself that Merlin does their physicals and thus has seen it all before. But then he turns it on, and does a little finessing and suddenly there’s a _baby_ on the monitor, _their_ baby on the monitor, and Eggsy forgets how to be anything but in _awe_.

And yeah, it looks like ET, what with it’s big head and pronounced spine, but it’s got little toes and fingers and this little flickerin’ heart, and it’s the most _beautiful_ thing Eggsy’s ever seen.

That’s their _baby_.

And then Merlin’s talkin’ about lookin’ healthy for 16 weeks, and an alpha, and Eggsy’s barely even listenin’ ‘cause he’s too busy kissin’ Harry, soft and slow and _worshipful_ , ‘cause yeah, he didn’t need this to be happy with Harry, but he’s fuckin’ _ecstatic_ ‘bout it none the less.

And then a week later Merlin gets the results of the amnio back, and tells them their little _girl_ is all perfectly healthy, and Eggsy knows’s he’s the luckiest bloke in the world.

***************************************

Harry, naturally, takes to pregnancy with the same ridiculous grace he takes to everything else.

He’s hardly ever sick, glows like some fuckin’ _beacon_ of fertility - and yeah, so fuckin’ what if Eggsy is biased here, it’s still fuckin’ _true_ \- and is all around the most beautiful, _sexy_ man Eggsy’s ever seen.

Pregnancy libido, Eggsy thinks as Harry rides ‘im, slamming down on ‘is cock at a pace that might be considered _brutal_ , ’til ‘is fuckin’ eyes cross, _work of fuckin’ beauty_.

And then one morning Harry’s grace apparently wears out, ‘cause Eggsy wakes up to find Harry staring daggers at ‘is favourite suit trousers with a look of what might be _betrayal_ , and even half asleep Eggsy’s lizard brain goes, _danger_.

“They don’t fit,” Harry informs ‘im, roundin’ on ‘im and thrusting the offending pants in Eggsy’s face just in case he didn’t catch on, and Eggsy makes ‘imself take in Harry fully. ‘Cause he’s had this little tummy before, but it was more ‘too many sweets’ than ‘pregnant’ before. Now though he’s definitely popped, so to speak, practically overnight, ‘cause he’s got a full on pregnant bump. And the part of ‘is brain that is all alpha fuckin’ _preens_ at that, of bein’ the one to do that to Harry, of the world _knowin’_ he’s the one that did that, knocked this beautiful, _perfect_ omega up.

The part of ‘im that ain’t a _moron_ , and remembers that Harry knows about a million ways to maim ‘im with just ‘is _cufflinks_ takes one look at Harry, who looks like he might fuckin’ start _cryin’_ at any moment, and immediately sets into _crisis_ mode. So Eggsy gets Harry all set out in the bed with ‘sum tea just how he likes it and ‘sum ice cream and a book, and after tellin’ ‘im how gorgeous and sexy and _beautiful_ he ‘is in about every way Eggsy can think of, Harry finally looks more composed again.

Eggsy, on the other hand, feels not unlike how he felt after diffusin’ a dirty bomb.

And so Eggsy notifies the office that Harry’s takin’ a personal day and then takes Harry’s trousers to work and finds Merlin down in ‘is lab and shoves the offending garment at ‘im and asks, “Could ya add like, lycra or whatever to the waist of these?”

“Would you also like them bedazzled and accented with glitter?” Merlin says, staring at ‘im like he just asked if he’d just asked if he could draw a moustache on the Mona Lisa with a sharpie or ‘sumthing. And Eggsy get’s it, he does, ’cause these fuckin’ suits are worth a mint, and works of art in their own right and whatever, but seriously, Eggsy’s got bigger problems right now.

No pun intended.

“It’s that, or I can send Harry to you next time he realizes ‘is pants ain’t fit, and you’re welcome to deal with that,” Eggsy says all false _sweetness_ , ‘cause if he fuckin’ has to go through this mornin’ again you can bet your _arse_ he’s draggin’ Merlin down with ‘im, and yeah, ‘is eyes might be a _mite_ crazy.

That by the next mornin’ Eggsy’s got a _set_ of adjusted trousers _and_ vests _and_ jackets to present to Harry ain’t exactly a surprise. But Harry takes ‘em with this little smile, and the look he shoots Eggsy is so full of _love_ that he knows even Merlin would agree it’s all worth it.

And then that night, when they’re lounging after work on the bed, and Eggsy’s using the bump as a pillow he get’s this little _nudge_ , right by ‘is left ear, and he jolts up ‘is head so fast he's surprised he doesn't get whiplash to put ‘is hands to that spot, where another little kick greets ‘im.

Eggsy’s sure the grin he sends Harry is so wide as to be almost _moronic_ , but with Harry beaming back at ‘im, he can’t think of time he’s cared about ‘is appearance less.

“Well hello there lil' bit,” he says instead, to the little person in there, makin’ a game outta pressing little kisses to everywhere he gets a _nudge_.

“We are going to have to eventually think up a name for her,” Harry says casually, threadin’ a hand through Eggsy’s hair and rubbin’ ‘is scalp lazily as Eggsy goes for another kiss on the side of the bump, and Eggsy can hear the gentle amusement in ‘is voice.

“I was thinkin’...Eliza?” Eggsy says, turnin’ his head to look up at Harry, tryin’ to ignore how ‘is neck must be flushed, cause this is beyond cheese it is, but it just won’t leave ‘is mind, “‘Cause she’s our fair lady.”

“Eliza is perfect,” Harry says, littlest tear gatherin’ in the corner of ‘is eye, and given that ‘is next move is to grab Eggsy by the shirt and just pull ‘im up to be kissed, its rather the last word on the subject, shall we say.

***************************************

Round ‘bout the seventh month they have a shower for Harry at their place, and invite all their friends and family over, for what seems like the reason of gettin’ a shitload of baby gifts and cooin’ over Harry’s tummy, both which are aces with Eggsy. Merlin gives ‘em this crib that’s basically a bomb shelter, with voice recognition and also possibly lasers, and Percival’s gift is a Tigger plush that has cameras for eyes and a direct feed back to HQ. And by the time Roxy gives ‘em this blanket, a heirloom thing that’s also made out of the bulletproof material that they make their suits out of Eggsy’s sensed there might be a _theme_ here.

And so, Eggsy takes stock of the guest here; about a dozen of the most trained killers on the planet, a group of the scariest hackers alive, and a handful of other people who all know at least three ways to kill a man with a paperclip and their _thumbs_ \- even ‘is _mum_ , ‘cause you can bet Eggsy’s taught her a trick or few - and thinks, _this is going to be the safest, most overprotected little girl in the fuckin’ world._

Also, she’s probably goin’ to encounter real problems datin’, and as her father, Eggsy thinks with some malicious satisfaction, _good_.

Yeah, he’s gonna be _that_ dad. Sue ‘im.

But then there’s cake and games and more presents - includin' a pair of baby oxfords from 'is mum that are so fuckin' _cute_ Eggsy might just die - and Harry’s got a smile on ‘is face and a hand on ‘is tummy from where Eliza’s kickin’ ‘im, and Eggsy knows that’s all that matters.

And then the next month flies by without much incident; Eggsy finishes paintin’ the nursery the Winnie the Pooh theme, ‘cause fuck everyone, Pooh Bear is the _bomb_. And then they go to that Lamaze thing, which Eggsy finds kind of scary and bizarre, ‘cause seriously, how bad is labour that you gotta be _trained_ to _breathe_ for it, ‘sumthing even babies have got figured out? But shite, it seems fine enough he guesses, and given that Harry’s startin’ to approach the size where he looks like he should have ‘is own gravitational field, findin’ ‘im activities where he ain’t the only one that size seems to help ‘is hormonally effected sense of self esteem.

Course, that only works for some of the time, as Eggsy’s comes home from a short mission in the country to find Harry sittin’ in the kitchen eatin’ ice cream right out of the carton with an unhappy look on ‘is face.

“I cannot see my feet,” Harry announces morosely in greeting, and then jams a spoonful of Pish Food into ‘is mouth, and Eggsy doesn’t say, _right, but you haven’t seen them for more than a month now_ ‘cause Eggsy’s self preservation instincts are stronger than that.

“They’re still really lovely?” Eggsy tries instead, puttin’ on ‘is best look of _earnest appeal_ even though he knows its futile, ‘cause he knows by now there’s no reasonin’ with pregnancy crazy.

“This is all your fault,” Harry informs ‘im sourly, provin’ Eggsy’s point and accusing ‘im with ‘is good eye, clutching the ice cream like it’s the only thing in the world that hasn’t betrayed ‘im.

Eggsy finds himself nostalgic for defusin’ that bomb again.

At least it’s a feelin’ he’s familiar with now.

But Eggsy actually happens to love Harry to distraction, so he just goes out and buys another _two_ pints of ice cream, and ends up spending ‘is evenin’ watching Richard Gere and Julia Roberts fall in love. And he considers mentionin’ that Harry basically cast ‘im as the prostitute in a Hollywood romance when they first met and that was a bit tellin’, but Harry’s fast asleep, bit a ice cream still on ‘is upper lip, and Eggsy wipes it gently off with ‘is thumb even as ‘is heart fuckin’ _melts_ at the sight.

On screen, the camera pans away from Vivian and Edward making out on the fire escape to that one guy from the start who asks again, _what’s your dream?_ And Eggsy looks down at Harry, and rubs his hand against the great swell of his stomach where their little girl is hidden safe away and thinks, _this_.

_This is my dream, and it's real._

***************************************

Their eighth month check up brings with it the findin’ that Harry’s blood pressure is a bit too high for Merlin’s liking, and so Merlin issues that Harry’s gotta stay on bed rest ’til he pops. Eggsy likes the idea well enough, ‘cause he figures Harry can’t get into any trouble that way, but Harry, once Merlin forbids ‘im from comin’ into work or doin’ any work at home durin’ that time is less... _fond_ of the idea, ‘specially after Merlin mentions that work might be too dangerous for ‘im.

Eggsy ain’t sure he agrees or disagrees on that, but one look at Harry means he’s stayin’ as far away from this one as humanly possible.

“I am entirely capable,” Harry proclaims cuttingly to Merlin, puffed up like a prissy cat. And Merlin throws his arms skyward like he’s just begging for lightning to strike ‘im where he stands and asks, with scathing exasperation, "Of what, waddling up to someone and ruthlessly bumping into them?”

And Eggsy one hundred percent doesn’t _snicker_ , and he’s got the bloody inner cheek to prove it, ‘cause Eggsy’s a fuckin’ _gentleman_.

Instead Eggsy takes in the sight of ‘is pregnant mate, huge as a fuckin’ _planet_ and still the most bloody gorgeous man he’s ever seen. And then takes in ‘is _face_ , and he wonders how much ice cream he’s gonna need to buy to get them all through the four weeks of bed rest Merlin just ordered.

And then Harry’s upper lip looks like it might fuckin’ _quiver_ , and Eggsy contemplates just buyin’ stock in Ben and Jerry’s.

These next four weeks are gonna be _hell_.

***************************************

However, despite Eggsy’s prediction, the next four weeks are actually pretty alright. Eggsy tucks Harry all sound into bed, and then makes it ‘is mission to care for ‘is every need and fuckin’ _loves_ doin’ it, ‘cause gettin’ to do this, to _provide_ for ‘is pregnant mate might be the deepest thing ingrained in ‘is genetic code. So Eggsy gets ice cream and fetches meals and gives back rubs and foot rubs and listens to Harry read to the baby, his head restin’ on the bump, listenin’ and feelin’ their _daughter_ move around in there, and yeah, he ain’t gonna lie, those might actually have been the best four weeks of ‘is life to date.

And then they get to the time ‘round when Harry’s due to pop - and from the grumblin’ Harry’s been doin’ the last week, he’s 'bout ready to be _done_ being pregnant - and Merlin does a check and says that Eliza is butt first and that a caesarian is probably the way to go, and then they schedule it for the next day, and Eggsy realizes that within 24 hours he’s gonna be a _dad._

He can’t fuckin’ _wait._

***************************************

The actual c-section is an impressively business like thing to Eggsy mind. Merlin and one of the other doctors get Harry all drugged and strapped up, arms out and get a sheet up in front of 'im, and Eggsy - wisely in ‘is opinion, once he cottons on to how much... _tugging_ seems to be happening below the sheet - stays up behind it with Harry, holdin’ ‘is hand and pressin’ kisses to each finger.

And then Merlin goes, “There we are,” and there’s this _wail_ of new life, and Eggsy can’t help but look, and when he does he see’s this little girl, bloody but _perfect_ in Merlin’s hands, and Eggsy falls _impossibly_ in love.

That’s their _daughter_.

And Merlin, bein’ a wise man get’s her all cleaned up while Eggsy’s kissin’ Harry, both their cheeks wet with tears that could belong to either of ‘em, and he makes quick work of handin’ her over to Eggsy, who takes her and cradles her like the _preciou_ s cargo she is. And then Eggsy takes in ‘er little button nose, her big blue curious eyes, and her perfect little fingers and toes, and tilts her down so she’s on Harry’s level and says, dazed and in _awe_ , “Look what we _did_ Harry.”

He’s never seen anything more _beautiful_ in ‘is life.

“Hello Eliza,” Harry says, hushed and _reverent_ , starin’ at the perfect little bundle that is their daughter in Eggsy’s arms, voice choked up with so much _love_ , “we’re your _parents_ ,” and Eggsy knows he was wrong before.

_Now_ , life is bloody _perfect_.

 

***************************************

FIN

***************************************

 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So, here is my contribution to corrupting the fandom with A/B/O; pregnant omega!Harry, because I am apparently incapable of writing A/B/O that doesn’t try to invert some trope, somehow. Meh. I’ve used the genetic system of inheritance that I created for my other A/B/O fic for this one as well (roll with it, I am indeed a nerd) so that’s why the amniocentesis (big ass needle) was needed to tell the sex (thoroughbreds and omegas can only have alpha children), though I am using a slightly different mechanism of A/B/O here than that fic (no imprinting like in WYW). Also I wrote it as c-section because I’ve now seen a couple of c-sections (med student) and I’d never written one before, and yeah they are awesome, but seriously, if you are squeamish about blood do not watch, because there is a lot of blood and…tugging (and by that I mean the doctors each grab a side and tug), shall we say to get the abdomen open. But yeah, have some fluff, because this is a ship will never have enough fluff, and if you develop diabetes after reading this, I take no legal responsibility. So, as always enjoy, and comments feed the muse.


End file.
